A List of Firsts
by hoppnhorn
Summary: Post Movie/Epilogue Story. Dedicated to the wonderful MGC.
1. First Call

The first time he had called her, he'd severely wished the bullet in his gut had killed him.

* * *

Calling a woman in the middle of the night for anything was humiliating; and Billy wasn't asking for just anything. He was asking for help.

Now, you have to imagine the kind of agony a man like Billy Darley would have to be in for him to do something so needy. It wasn't something he did lightly. He had tried to get over the pain and just lie there, wait it out like the stupid, proud man he was, but eventually survival told him to reach out to someone.

The first person he thought of was Bodie. Too bad Bodie was dead. All of his friends were dead. That thought only made him hurt worse, so Billy had focused on thinking up a new name.

That's when he'd thought of Mary.

She was a neighbor he'd met once or twice over the span of three years, their paths crossing in the halls every so often. Billy had jumped her car for her once, and she'd been a sweet, timid girl. The kind he didn't really bother thinking about most of the time. Sweet wasn't his deal. In fact, he preferred very unlady-like ladies. Which is why Mary's number had gone unused after she'd given it to him.

Funny how that number had managed to stay in his wallet all that time, because it was his salvation. Sweet was what he desperately needed. Someone kind, caring. The kind of person who picked up your newspapers when they noticed them piling up outside your door.

Needless to say, Billy knew Mary was the perfect person to call. So he did. He called and she answered in less than three rings.

"Mary…" His entire body hurt, and talking only made him feel like putting the barrel of a gun in his mouth.

"Hello?" She sounded frightened, as she should be. The man on the other end of the phone was exactly the kind of man that she didn't need in her life. He was a bad man, a selfish, cruel person who didn't deserve her mercy or her help. Billy swallowed as his hatred and anguish forced tears from the corners of his eyes. His throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper as he tried to speak again. But, thankfully, she jumped back in. "Billy, is that you?"

"Mary." He fought to focus his air, keep enough in his lungs to make a sentence fit together. It had been a long while since he'd managed to get back from the office. Nick Hume had done him a disservice when he had decided to not finish him off. The man might have thought Billy a goner, but it seemed that he wasn't ready to die. Not even with half his right hand missing, a hole in his side, and a chunk out of his elbow. He was a stubborn man, in all things. Dying too, apparently.

"Billy? Are you okay?" Her voice wasn't frightened anymore, but worried. It almost soothed him, hearing concern in someone's voice for him. He hadn't heard that since…

"No." He grunted into the phone. "I need you."

Billy knew he'd made the right decision, because he didn't have to even force out a please. Her response was immediate.

"I'm coming."

* * *

The thing about their apartment building is this: the halls are loud. You sneeze in the hallway and all your neighbors know about it. So when Mary came running to his door, Billy heard her loud and clear. He hadn't bothered to lock the door, or even close it probably. He'd been too concerned with getting onto his couch. Anyway, she seemed to walk right in and he didn't open his eyes when he heard her arrive at his side. The light from the hall hurt too much.

Breathing hurt too much.

"Oh my god." Her voice was wispy and slightly weepy, so Billy figured she had a good idea of how close to death he was. The blood all over his floor was probably a decent indication of the severity of his wounds also. "Billy you need a hospital, holy shit your hand…" Mary's voice cut off for a second and he lifted an eyelid to catch a glimpse of her. Yeah, her face was as pale as a sheet and her hands were shaking at her sides. He probably looked like a fresh corpse.

"No hospital." He grunted out, choking on the hot pain that was scalding up from his abs. If he ended up in a hospital, he'd just spend the rest of his life in a jail. Now **that** wasn't worth living through hell for. Mary's face moved in closer and he sighed a little.

"You will die." She might have been scared to death, and moments from puking her guts out somewhere, but her words were firm. "Billy, listen to me, you need to go to—"

"No. Hospital." He pushed the words from his lungs and clamped his eyes closed from the pain. "Promise me." The wheezy plead was garbled, probably from blood. Swallowing, Billy tasted iron and his chest tightened with panic. He was coughing blood, which meant he didn't have much time left. "There's a guy…" A shot of adrenaline made it easier to frantically whisper, even though the fire in his ribs grew hotter. Mary moved closer, her breath brushing across his forehead.

"Please let me get you help." She was crying. Shit. He tried to look at her, but his head was screaming. Mary's voice was so heartbreaking; he was torn in half. Again.

"Phonebook. Pete's Body and Repair." The only reason Billy hadn't called Pete was this: Pete belonged to Bones. It was probably out by now that Bones was dead…and it didn't take much to put together who'd done it. Hell, he'd been stupid enough to leave his father on the very corner he'd been on all night.

Two plus two equals…

"Okay…okay…" Mary was still crying, but she was scampering across the living room anyway. Maybe she was lying, getting on the phone to call an ambulance. Didn't matter. If she did, he wouldn't be able to stop her. "Pete's Body and Repair?" Billy wondered if her voice would be the last he'd hear. That didn't sound like such a bad thing, really. Mary had a soft voice, but not ditsy high or anything. It was actually a lower sound, something he hadn't noticed before. Probably because she hadn't said much to him before.

Jesus, he'd really overlooked her hadn't he? And now she was saving his goddamn life.

Maybe.

"Okay, I've got it. Pete's, right? Billy?" She was racing back to him and Billy forced himself to open his eyes.

"Call." Mary's face was streaked with frightened tears, and if Billy hadn't felt like every part of him was being torn from his body, he would have wiped them away. It was unfair, what he was doing to her. But he wanted to live. So badly. Her fingers danced across a cell phone and then her pale face was pressed to the device as a mechanical ring filled the silence.

Billy was gambling here, calling Pete. The guy could justifiably hang up and let him die out of respect for Bones. Or he could show up just to put another slug in his ass. But if Mary called, and did exactly what she was doing, Pete's heart might soften. After all, Bones was dead. His good graces weren't worth much anymore.

"Yes, um, my name's Marianne and I'm a friend of Billy Darley…" Billy winced at the word 'friend'. He wasn't much of a friend to anyone. But it sounded nice, hearing her call him a friend. What had he done to deserve her kindness?

A voice was replying to her frantic words and Billy hoped the idiot on the line knew to hand over the phone to Pete. If he bled out while some moron gave Mary a hard time, he'd haunt the son of a bitch.

Thankfully, it seemed the message had been received.

"Is he a doctor?" Mary asked him gently, her eyes shining. God she was brave, but so naive. She lived in Southie for fuck's sake. She should know that not everything is what it seems.

"Not. Anymore." Billy managed to answer her question before a new voice crackled over the phone. Mary listened intently and Billy let his eyes slip closed.

"He's in bad shape. Please, he needs—" There was more noise cutting her off, then she took a rushed breath. "What?" Billy knew what they had to be telling her: things that could turn her against him. He'd killed his own father; he kind of deserved to be left to die, really.

"Mary." He groaned, praying that she'd stay on his side. For now at least. He needed her and she was all he had.

"He's fucking dying!" She shouted so loud that Billy was startled into opening his eyes. She was red around the cheeks from panic. "Please help us!"

Us. A fresh line of tears flowed from his eyes, but not because of pain. He'd been involuntarily tearing up for over an hour. But these weren't burning down his cheeks because of pain. Mary was going to take care of him and he was going to die with someone who would cry for him.

How insane. A woman he'd barely spoken to was going to claim him in his last moments, then mourn him when he'd gone. He was a lucky fucking bastard.

Billy felt a warm hand on his cheek and he opened his eyes for her again, his chest tight and painful for another reason than his broken body. Mary was leaning over him and the phone was gone, her eyes glistening with tears.

"They're on the way, Billy."

There were no sweeter words on earth.

"Thank you." He could only wheeze anymore, but Mary nodded all the same. Stroking his face like he was worthy of her care, Mary's hand came back with blood smeared on the palm.

"Just stay with me."

If only it were that easy.

* * *

What he knew next was darkness. At some point he wondered if he'd died. It would make sense, finding nothing on the other side. There wasn't a host of angels to pull him into their kingdom, and there also wasn't a pit of lava with a horned dude stubbing out cigs on his skin. It was just black. Black and endless and nothing.

It was like sleeping off a bad trip. He was aware of himself, but he wasn't awake. It was a prison without bars or guards. Billy was trapped with nothing but mixed up thoughts and rambling ideas. There wasn't order, or time, it just was.

It was scary. As someone who valued his mind and his ability to control himself, Billy was fucking terrified. He had no control over anything, he couldn't think in straight lines, it was all a mess. A sticky mess.

Only once in a while would he have the push to think of something clearly. And every single time it was Mary's face. In his consciousness, she would swoop in and touch his face like she had when he'd died. She was touching his cheek and crying, calling his name and telling him to stay. He really wished he could have stayed with her. He really wished he could take back charging into the office. Okay, really, he wished he'd shot Nick Hume twice while he'd had the bastard. Now he was dead. His friends were dead. His brother was dead. His father was dead.

And it was all just black.

That's when he started to wonder about life. He'd never been a deep person, but as a dead person he figured he had the time. Billy figured he had eternity. So he thought about his life and wondered if it had all been worth it.

His brother had been killed because of revenge. And Joey had killed the Hume kid because Billy had told him to. It all boiled down to his mistakes, didn't it? It hurt him, realizing that. During it all, he'd pretended to blame Nick Hume for Joey's death, but deep down he'd really hated himself. Maybe that's why he'd charged into the old asylum. He'd been testing himself, and now he knew what it felt like to lose.

"BILLY!"

She was there in a flash of light and a scream like fire. He hurt and he burned. Billy knew agony again and it consumed him like a wave.

"Breathe ya goddamn bastard." Pete's voice was as welcoming as a two-by-four to the face, but Billy was flooded with relief. Pete's voice meant one thing.

He was back.

"Hold his head and make sure he fuckin' stays alive." Pete was hissing angrily in the blinding light and Billy wanted to say something back. Something along the lines of "fuck you". Yet a piercing pain in his side ripped a scream from his throat instead.

Then it was black again. And an angel's voice was singing to him. Singing to him in the dark.

* * *

When he woke up, for a moment he wondered if he had dreamt it all. That would be nice, huh? Waking up to find Joey snoring on the couch beside him, Bodie passed out in the chair across the room. That would be the best gift. But even before he'd opened his eyes, Billy knew he'd see nothing of the sort.

The television was on, quietly. A local news channel. A woman's voice was droning on from a distance and the lights danced across his eyelids, alerting him to the lively picture. It took him a few tries to open his eyes. First, it was just too damn bright. The TV made his eyes roll back in his skull, hiding in the comfort of shadow. But a few blinks softened the glow of the screen and eventually he could focus on his surroundings.

Well shit, he wasn't on the couch at all.

His bedroom television was the one making muffled sounds, an anchorwoman speaking gravely to her audience. Whatever she was saying, he didn't care. In fact, unless she had a glass of water, she was dead to him. Because, goddamn, he was thirsty.

"Hello?" It felt stupid to call out into his own apartment, but he felt like his body weighed a million pounds, something he wasn't going to attempt to lift anytime soon. As soon as he spoke, there was a groan of the sofa and quick footsteps.

Mary appeared like he remembered her, blonde hair and pristine skin, practically floating into his room. She was wearing an old t-shirt and boxer shorts, her hair messy. Had she been asleep in his living room?

"You're awake." She stated the obvious with a beaming smile on her face and Billy awkwardly swallowed. His memory was terribly jumbled and he felt so helpless it was embarrassing. But his embarrassment vanished when Mary's eyes filled with tears. "Thank god." Billy flinched as the shining tears slipping down one of her cheeks.

"I figure I should be thankin' you. Not god." He murmured, giving himself a once over for the first time. His body was covered with a white sheet, but there was very little on him besides that. He could feel the cool material on his chest and his arms, down his legs.

"Oh, don't count god out." Mary replied, moving to stand at his side. He looked up at her and felt like touching her face, cradling that dainty jaw in one of his hands. She looked pretty perfect to him in that moment, flushed from emotion and groggy from sleep. Billy just looked at her and she let him. For a long while.

Eventually his thirst sent a reminder to his brain, making his throat hurt in response. He swallowed and winced, raising a hand to his neck.

His right hand was wrapped heavily in bandage, only three of his fingers sticking out from the dressing. For a second he just stared at the disfigured part of him and wondered what had become of his two missing fingers. Down that same arm was another cluster of bandage, encasing the elbow until it was immobile. Lifting the limb didn't seem to hurt, but he felt the pang of residual pain, like it was in a far off place that was steadily approaching.

"Should I even ask what happened?" Mary's question brought him back to reality like a tape snapping back to play. Lowering his hand, Billy thought about the shootout at the office, thought about the rage he'd felt after seeing his best friend cut down in a single shot. All of his friends, dead. He'd tripped over Jaime on his way out, limping his way to the back where Bodie had left his car. Baggy had been outside, a couple stories below on the ground. He'd seen Dog and Spink on the way in, and he could only imagine what kind of state Hume had left Heco in.

"They're all fuckin' dead." He muttered aloud, staring at the television screen with flat eyes. What was he doing alive? That wasn't how it was supposed to end, was it? It should have ended with him dying on that chapel pew.

"That's what your friend said." Mary replied, her body sinking beside him on the bed. She was barely sitting on the edge of the mattress, but her presence brought him out of his eerie replay of the previous night and he turned his head around to face her. So kind, so understanding. Her face was devoid of any judgment or fear. To her, he was just a neighbor who had needed help.

"I'd be dead too if it weren't for you, Mary." She flushed a deep shade of scarlet and shrugged, her mouth opening as if she planned on saying something to the contrary. But nothing left her lips and eventually she just laughed softly and closed her mouth.

"Why did you call me, Billy?" He watched her look away before she asked him that question. A question he spent a minute reflecting on before he finally answered.

"You're the only good person I know."

Her smile was shy and a few more tears ran silently down her cheeks. And for a minute, he wondered if she would stay, or if she was going to leave now that he was awake. Eventually she nodded and her face lifted in a fuller, happier smile.

"Well…do you need anything?" Mary wiped a few tears away, then stood. With a deep breath and a moment of silence, she looked like nothing terrible had happened. Like it was a simple world and she was asking him a simple question.

"I'd die for some water."


	2. First Kiss

The first time he kissed her, Billy knew it wasn't just a kiss.

* * *

"What is that?" Billy murmured, watching as Mary carried a white bowl into the room, her eyes fixed on its contents as she took small steps.

"It's your lunch." She replied without looking up, her arms and upper body tense in order to keep that lunch from slopping onto the floor. Billy gave a groan and flopped his head back on the couch.

"Again?" After two weeks of nothing but soup, toast, and water, he was ready to lose his mind. He felt like he was never really full, and his body was starting to wither from lack of use. Billy wanted to eat a steak, run a mile, and down a beer. Instead? He was getting more fucking soup.

"Yes again." Mary said with a little laugh, her mood never degraded by his attitude. Ever since the moment he'd come back from the dead, she'd been positive and happy. It was crazy, but she was more grateful for his life than he was at times. Billy felt guilty because of that.

Didn't stop him from wanting a goddamn steak though.

"You'll live." She added, setting the bowl down gently on a TV dinner stand at his side. He'd practically been living on his couch. It was easier to get to the bathroom and he could eat, watch TV, and sleep without getting up. Walking wasn't the hard part; it was the sitting up bit.

According to Pete, the bullet had torn through a good portion of his gut, testing the old army surgeon's memory and prompting an emergency operation on his kitchen table. Billy glanced at the spotless table out of the corner of his eye, wondering how Mary had been able to stand cleaning up like she had. Hell, his couch was cleaner than it had been **before** he'd decided to bleed to death on it.

"Yeah yeah." He muttered, watching her fuss with his messy coffee table before she inched the soup closer. "Tell the chef I'm not above bribery." Mary laughed and looked him in the eye, making Billy's chest grow warm. She had been so good to him, even though she had a full-time job and things of her own to do. It hadn't mattered that they were practically strangers; she'd taken a week of sick leave and tended to him like he was her family. He would pay her back somehow. But he was still wondering what he could do to make up for all she'd done for him.

"Well, the chef doesn't take requests from the severely injured." Picking up his miscellaneous magazines, newspapers, and other junk, she bobbed up and down to scoop things off the floor. "You're stuck with soup for a while." Billy observed in silence, eyeing the way her work clothes hugged her in all the right places. She had explained her job to him once or twice, but he still couldn't remember the title those fancy clothes carried. Something in television, he knew. And yet she wasn't happy there.

That pencil skirt was sleek and tight on her hips. Billy had to drop his eyes to the chicken noodle in front of him to avoid popping wood under his sweats. Wasn't the first time Mary had done that to him in the passing weeks, even though his body was supposedly injured. Apparently his cock had missed the memo.

"I'll be back at seven." Mary was finally done straightening as Billy took a spoonful of his soup to his mouth. Even though it was getting a tad boring, the stuff still tasted good. She made it on the stove instead of in the microwave. That somehow made a difference. "There's more soup on the counter for dinner." He rolled his eyes for her benefit as she fixed a few strands of loose hair. It brought a smile to her face.

"Did you hide all the beer again?" Billy muttered, wishing like crazy that he could brush her hair away himself. Mary grinned and bent over to put on her heels. Why she had to wear four-inch pumps, he didn't know. The woman was already a skyscraper compared to most. But damn did they make her legs look edible.

"No. But that doesn't mean you're drinking any." She said with a light laugh. "Your blood pressure needs to stay low until you're fully healed." Billy wanted to punch Pete in the mouth for telling her that. Bodie had been shot in the thigh once, and he'd been downing Jack the next day. If anything, it made things feel better.

"I'll feel better." He said with a smirk. "A perfect patient." Not that he wasn't well behaved anyway. Mary could beat him into submission without breaking a sweat if he didn't listen to her. So he hadn't tried. And it really hadn't been necessary; because even though he didn't like the rules, Billy knew they were there to help him. Honestly, being healthy again was more important to him than asserting his male dominance over his pretty neighbor.

"You feel fine." Mary snorted and checked her reflection in the window. "You've been off the pain meds Pete gave you for a week." Billy huffed and took another slurp of soup.

"I don't like drugs." The prescription stuff had been good for a few days, but then Billy had noticed his inability to stay awake. Then it had only been a problem. He liked control, and drugs gave him none. So a little pain here and there was worth getting his control back. He just couldn't tell Mary that he hurt.

It would wake him up some nights, right in the deepest part of sleep. He'd jolt awake so violently that his gut would feel like Nick Hume had shot him again. It would make his body shudder and arch off the couch, the pain slicing through him. But Billy would stay silent, panting and sweating in the dark until the pain lowered enough that he could rest.

"I know." Mary's voice lifted his eyes and he realized she'd been watching him in the window's reflection, her gaze examining the contemplation on his face. For a moment, they just stared.

Then she turned around abruptly and sighed. "Okay, I've got to go."

Billy scooped more soup and nodded without looking up at her. It bothered him how much he didn't want her to go. She left every night to go sleep in her own bed, but she was never more than a phone call away. Today, she wouldn't be back until morning, working through the night. He didn't like that about her job. She was too pretty to be exhausted during the day. A woman like Mary should be smiling when the sun was shining. Not sleeping to avoid bags under her eyes.

"Lift up your shirt." Billy rolled his eyes when Mary came at him with that mothering tone. This happened three times a day, and it never got any more enjoyable. His once admirable stomach was a mess, littered in bruises and nasty stitches. Pete said he had five weeks until the black stitches could come out, but Billy often contemplated cutting them himself. Until he got a look at them again. Then he would just shove his shirt down and go back to loathing the ugly incisions.

He lifted his shirt slowly, trying to avoid the large patch of gauze on his side. Mary's gentle fingers slipped under one side of the medical tape and she pulled the cotton away. Billy had to swallow a groan. Even that gentle brush made his gut ripple with pain. It was irritating how sensitive it was.

She made quick work of glancing up and down his stomach, keeping her eyebrows knit tight as she checked for infection, redness, or swelling.

"It's getting better." She murmured. He wanted to point out that she said that everyday, but Mary didn't deserve his bitterness. Billy wanted to **be** better; and it wasn't her fault that these things took time.

Softly, she reapplied more ointment to the gauze and flattened it out on his stitches. Billy shifted a little from the pressure, but then he looked up and realized how close she was. Inches from his face. Just watching him.

He caught her mouth without even thinking it through. Billy pressed his lips to hers and dropped the hold on his shirt to touch her face. She was soft and sweet, even in taste, and he took his time before he parted his lips and kissed her again.

At first, Mary's eyes were open and shocked, watching as he stared back. Kissing her once, twice, a third time. It was when his tongue teased the tip of her top lip that her eyelids fluttered closed and she dropped the tube in her hand to grasp his head.

Then, as quickly as it started, it ended. She pulled away and he opened his eyes, their hands falling away gently and without a word.

"I'll check on you when I get back." Mary was whispering and Billy knew something big had just changed. A balanced had shifted between them. She wasn't just his sweet, kind neighbor. The fuck was he saying? She'd been more than that the moment she'd shown up to save his life. Mary was all he had.

She was his world now. And he really liked his world.

"Okay." He replied, focusing on his soup again as she grabbed her jacket and purse from the chair across the way.

"Call me if you need anything." She added, her eyes down as she slipped her slender arms into the black blazer. Billy liked how she dressed. It was classy and professional, yet sexy as shit. A definite switch from the women he was used to looking at. Mini skirts and skimpy tops somehow didn't compare to Mary's fitted skirts and blouses. She was alluring by showing less skin. Go figure.

"Yeah."

Mary met his eyes for just a second before she smiled and nodded, heading for the door. For a moment, Billy felt like he should say something else, add on some kind of goodbye. But nothing good came to mind. 'See ya' sounded lame as fuck and 'bye' was just boring.

"No beer." It seemed Mary knew how to fix everything, her little joke lightening the awkward mood in an instant. Billy grinned and glanced over his shoulder at her, winking as she faked a stern frown.

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

Like most of his dreams, this one started out on the corner. He was feeling strong, smoking a cigarette in the cold. It was good to take a deep drag without wincing. Billy almost couldn't remember the taste of his smokes anymore. He also couldn't remember holding a breath that didn't hurt. Pain was a part of his daily. But not in his dreams.

The silver car pulled up, like it always did, and Billy smirked, greeting the punk kid behind the wheel like he had that night. Some chit chat here and there, something to keep the guy from asking him about the rumors going around. People were annoying with questions, asking about the APB that was still stuck to his ass. Cops were smart enough to not roll up in Southie at night, so he'd stayed low-key during the day. As long as customers kept their mouths shut about where he was, everything would go back to normal in a couple of days and eventually the cops would get bored. Nick Hume was dead, after all. Dead and guilty of killing a city kid. That would make headlines, which is why his murder would get gently pushed under the rug. No one wants to read about a good guy gone bad.

The deal was over and poser was driving away when his phone rang. Billy didn't want to answer it, because he knew what he'd hear. He'd heard that phone call a hundred times.

_He says you're sentenced. _

The gun shot in his ear was just as loud as the first time he'd listened to it echo through his phone. And the adrenaline in his veins was just as potent as it had been all those nights ago. He was afraid. Not something he wanted to readily remember, but his dreams made him remember. It made him relive his mistake over and over.

Bones drove up just as he was ready to go, shoving his bag over his shoulder. At first, he'd been sort of relieved. There wasn't a bus route nearby for blocks and surely Spink was already back at the office. Picking him up would waste precious time. Time he didn't have.

_Well, what are we fuckin' up tonight, son?_

His father's face didn't make him as angry as it used to. In fact, Billy felt a little jab of familiarity when Bones stood up from the deVille. He wouldn't go as far as to say he missed the bastard, but seeing his face made him feel like everything was back to normal. A world without his father didn't make much sense, really. Forgetting the fact that the man made him insane, Bones had always been there. From day one, Billy hadn't been alone because his father was always somewhere to find. He'd get a slap, or maybe a few, but Bones would fix his problems. Always had.

But that night he'd been a problem. And Billy had been at the end of his rope. Joey was dead, Tommy was dead, Heco was definitely dead, and now Nick Hume was going after him and the rest of his friends. He didn't have the patience for Bones in that moment. Maybe that was why he'd lost it the way he did.

_Now do you need anymore fuckin' instructions?!_

Not really. Billy had pulled that trigger without even blinking. His dad went down like a stone and Billy felt nothing. He murdered the only family he had left and his blood ran like fucking ice.

* * *

This time, when he bolted upright on the sofa, Billy let out a moan of fear. Not a whimpering sound, exactly, but a sad sound of defeat. He didn't like seeing how far he'd fallen. How was he supposed to live his life when he had such dark memories to keep him awake at night?

"Billy?" Mary's voice startled him and he jumped a second time, jostling his stitches and pulling a hard groan of pain from his throat. She had been in the kitchen, and now she was falling to his side. It couldn't have been seven in the morning already, could it? He glanced at the window as she touched his face. The sun was just barely rising, the sky a light grey.

"You're burning up." She whispered frantically, standing to rush back to the kitchen. But Billy caught her wrist and brought her back.

"I killed my father." He confessed with rushed breath, sweating and still a little trapped in his fear. "I shot him in the face and stepped over him like it was nothing."

Mary didn't move for a long time, her body frozen in a half turn towards the kitchen. But he didn't let her arm go, holding on despite her rigid stance. When she did finally move, she did it slowly, kneeling down beside him.

"Why?"

"I was mad." It was partly the truth. The other half was he'd just fucking felt like it. And that was the terrifying part. He'd felt like killing Bones so he'd just done it.

"Are you sorry?" Her second question caught him off guard, and made him pause. Was he sorry? Maybe. His father hadn't really needed to die. Bones would have helped him; he would have probably kept him from getting shot in the gut too. But was Billy sorry?

"Yeah." That was the whole truth. He was sorry. Billy was sorry about a lot of things. He was sorry that he'd taken Joey out for his initiation on the wrong side of Southie. They'd been too close to the interstate and he'd known that, but he hadn't cared. He was sorry he hadn't chosen a rival gangbanger for his brother to make his bones on. He was sorry that he'd let his little brother kill a defenseless kid. Taking away Nick Hume's son had been wrong. And he'd paid for it, dearly.

Billy didn't realize she was touching him until she lifted her hand from his cheek. Then he was the one touching her, cupping her face to bring her closer. He needed to feel something good, and she was his good. Any good that he had left was because of Mary.

He kissed her slowly at first, then deeper, until she was all he knew and all he felt. Billy wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her closer so they were breathing together, their bodies fused. Mary cooed for him a few times and he wove his fingers in her hair, entering her mouth with his tongue when she let him. And eventually, the fear went away, the sadness faded, and then he was just tired. Tired and calm.

"Get some rest." She cooed into his forehead, leaving little kisses over his cheeks and chin. Billy let her stroke his face and coax him back onto his pillows. He let her plant little pecks on his jaw while his eyes drooped closed and he held one of her hands against his chest. He'd never really known this kind of compassion, and it was disappointing that he was too weak to appreciate it fully. But he would never forget what it felt like to fall asleep like that, being cared for and protected. Billy supposed his mother had done it once or twice, but he couldn't remember his mother.

All he remembered was Mary. And for the rest of the night, he dreamt about her laugh and her golden hair. He dreamt about kissing her in the moonlight. And he dreamt about her hand in his, for good.


	3. First Love

The first time was a surprise in the aftermath of fear.

* * *

Billy forced himself off the couch after five weeks.

Dressing in jeans for the first time in forever, Billy was quickly aware of his weight loss. He stared down at the gap in his waistline, glaring with fury at the space. He'd become so thin during his inactivity; he had to wear a belt for the first time in years. Years. The last time he'd needed one was the summer he'd grown three inches. Billy had been tall before he'd been strong, and the hang-time between the two states had left him scrawny.

Joey had been going through that same stage well into his twenties…

Billy looked up at himself in the bathroom mirror as he thought about his brother. It pained him to think about the skinny goofball that was missing from his life. Joey had been his brother, a son, and a friend. Billy sighed heavily as his heart twanged in his chest.

His reflection was in mourning. Dark shadows lined the cage of his ribs, joining his tattoos like a roadmap along his skin. Then there were the long, red incisions along his side, slicing through skin and muscle.

"Ya look like shit Darley." He muttered, trying his best to push past his shame. Because he was ashamed…of himself. Pulling his belt tighter, he secured his pants in the dark bathroom, ignoring the fact that the task was harder when missing two fingers. He didn't bother with a shirt, not yet.

Billy found a razor and shaving cream slowly, taking his time bending down to root through the cabinet beneath the sink. The pain wasn't as great as it had been and he got by without even gritting his teeth.

He stood tall in front of the mirror, daring it to judge him for weakness a second time. A blond-haired stranger with a beard stared back with proud eyes. His hair had grown out until his scalp was covered with short messy strands while his once tame facial hair spread out and down the underside of his jaw. For a moment, he pondered leaving it all the way it was. Billy didn't feel like the man he'd been weeks ago, so it made sense that he didn't look like him. But after a moment of study, he uncapped the shaving cream and went to work.

After he was cleaned up, he dressed unceremoniously in his room and pulled on his leather jacket. Thankfully, he had left it at home the night Nick Hume had called him on the corner, so it was spared the fate of his black canvas jacket. That one had been covered in his blood before Billy had even limped out to Bodie's car.

As he swung the familiar leather jacket onto his shoulders, the weight startled him. It had once felt like a comfort, but now it resembled a burden.

"Where are you going?" Mary's voice startled him and Billy hissed an inhale as he twisted his torso in surprise. Closing his eyes, he held in the groan of discomfort and took a breath to steady the throbbing in his side.

"I've been sittin' around too much. There's shit ta do." He murmured, knowing full well what her response was going to be. Mary was much more than his neighbor or nurse, and he knew her well.

"Good idea." His eyes opened and he met her sarcastic voice with an arched eyebrow. God she was beautiful, even when she was frustrated with him. She had a strength that made her skin glow.

And today she was wearing her golden hair down.

"Marianne—" He wanted to curse, but he'd learned how well that went over. "I can't sit around forever."

"Oh no, sure." She shrugged and leant against the doorframe. "Walking around in Southie right now is a great plan. No one's looking for you or anything. Your face wasn't all over the goddamn news for weeks." Both of his brows were raised now. When she swore in front of him, which wasn't often, he knew she was serious. You wouldn't know it by her smile, but Mary was definitely worked up.

"Bones is fuckin' dead." He muttered angrily, stuffing his jeans with a wallet and phone. "I need ta go over there before his place is completely picked clean." By picked clean, he obviously meant his father's safe. There was enough money in there to last him a while, and he'd promised Pete a nice lump of cash for helping him.

"What makes you think there's anything left?" Mary asked, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "You could be walking into a trap."

"If it is, you'll see it on the news." He grumbled.

Honestly, Billy had thought about that. But he couldn't risk going on without any money. Eventually, Pete would need paying and he'd need cash to protect himself. Whether that meant buying guns, he didn't know. All he knew was this: he was the only living Darley, and a lot of people wanted **all** of the Darleys dead.

"I don't want you to get arrested." Mary's simple words made Billy tired. Looking at her, he suddenly felt like an old man. She wanted him to stay with her, get better at a snails pace, and avoid confronting the harsh reality of the world. But he knew, deep down, that avoiding the looming threat would only bring a worse storm later.

"Neither do I." He stepped closer, knowing he'd have to pass her to get to his front door, and Bodie's car beyond that. "But I can't wait anymore." Mary sighed and stared up at him with her bold eyes, saying more than her words ever did. That was how she was. She could convey her fears, insecurities, and wishes with one look. Unlike all the other women he'd known, Billy never needed Mary spelled out to him in plain English.

Reaching up with a hand, she stroked his bare cheek and sighed a second time.

"You look much younger this way." She whispered, moving the tips of her fingers cross his cheekbones until she dipped under his mouth to his chin. He'd shaved his goatee, beard, all of it. All he'd left was the light, messy mane on his scalp. He looked identical to his high school photos, only a little worse for wear from all the years that had passed. And from nearly dying, of course.

At his chin, Mary let her hand fall away.

"I always thought you were much older than me." She traced his tattoos with her eyes all the way down his throat to the collar of his shirt. It was looser now, with his weight gone, and a little of the ink on his chest was revealed at the top. "But we're still young, you and I."

"I won't get arrested." He knew where she was headed, what she was thinking about. She was thinking about Billy behind bars before thirty. There was no way in hell he could promise he wouldn't end up that way, but Billy had blurted it out. Maybe he wanted to make her feel better, or maybe he was just trying to make himself feel better. Truth? He really didn't want to go to prison. It would be the end of him. Not because he'd succumb to violence, or madness, but because he wouldn't have control of his life.

He needed to take control again.

Slipping out of his jacket, he plucked a black hoodie off his bed, yanking it on over his head. It fit better than the leather, hugging his slim waist and wide shoulders in comfortable warmth.

"I want to go with you."

Now **that** he hadn't been expecting. Billy whirled around as Mary met his eyes with determination, tilting her chin up to meet his angry expression.

"Goddamn it, Mary." He rubbed a hand down his face and tried his best not to yell. "You can't be involved."

"Too late for that." She muttered back. "I'm already guilty of aiding a wanted criminal." Billy closed his eyes and sighed hard from his nose.

"You shouldn't be **more **involved."

"You're right, I shouldn't." She snapped back, standing straight off the doorframe to strut back down the hall. "But I'm the only one here." Her voice was loud and clear as she vanished from view into the living room.

"Fuck…" He swore under his breath.

"I was the one who held your head as you passed out, prayed for you to keep breathing…" Billy started after her as her voice started to crack with emotion.

"Mary…"

"I had to scrub the blood off the floor, off your body." She was throwing things into a trashcan, cleaning up after him like she always did. But this was all just to keep her busy. He could see that, sense it even. Billy knew her so well, and he knew that she wasn't angry with him. She was afraid.

"Mary."

Her back slumped and she dropped the trashcan on top of the coffee table, her face hidden from his sight.

"I'm not made for this, Billy." She whispered softly now, the strict tone from moments ago gone. Turning her head, she looked at him from over her shoulder. Her eyes were shining and Billy felt his heart squeeze tight. The truth couldn't be plainer. Mary shouldn't have to worry about him, fear the worst. The burden of his life wasn't hers to bear.

"I'll be back in half an hour." Billy hoped he wasn't lying. He hoped that the shop would be empty and no one would try to snuff him out. There wasn't another gun in his apartment, and walking into Bones' Bodyshop without one would feel like charging in naked. Pressing a hand to his back pocket, he felt the blade he'd tucked there just in case.

Still, taking a knife to a gunfight was stupid. He'd die if someone wanted him to. He wasn't nearly as agile as a healthy man. Any fight would be quick.

"Mary…"

She turned around and moved like lightning. Billy had just enough time to open his arms before she was in them and her mouth was pressed against his. Didn't take long for him to reply though. As soon as he felt her, he was kissing her back just as hard. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he wanted so badly to lift her off the floor and hold her to his chest.

Instead, he pushed his hand into the small of her back, forming her against him perfectly.

"Tell me again, why me?" She whispered into his mouth and Billy felt her tears on his cheeks. Touching his forehead to hers, he kissed her twice before he bothered speaking.

"You're the only good person I know, Marianne." Her body shuddered and he hugged her tighter, even though his side gave a small pang of discomfort. He didn't give two shits if he hurt.

Mary rubbed his short hair for a while, kissing him slowly, deeply, then quick and hard. He wasn't sure if she would ever let him go, but he wasn't about to complain. They hadn't been exceptionally affectionate since the night they'd first kissed. She had kissed him on the cheek a few times, pecked him on the lips once or twice, but that was nothing compared to this. And Billy wanted more for the first time in a long time; his body was responding, reminding him of the vitality he had once had.

"Stay." Mary whispered. He wiped the tears from her face with a hand, unnerved by how many there were. She really was worried he wasn't going to come back. After seeing him so close to death, it wasn't hard to understand why.

"I need to start puttin' my life back together." He whispered into her lips. "I gotta find out what's goin' on. Find my money. Take what's mine."

"Then let me go with you." She was pleading with her eyes, staring up at him with so much worry on her face.

"Mary." He closed his eyes with frustration. "I have to do this alone."

If things went badly while he was out, having her nearby would only make him more off balance.

It had been the same with Joey. Having his little brother around when he was in a jam never helped. He would have protected his brother with whatever means necessary, even if it had meant he himself dying. Holding Mary in that moment, Billy realized the same rang true for her. Because she had saved him, he would save her from anything.

* * *

The garage looked exactly how he remembered it. Then again, why wouldn't it? It wasn't like a hurricane had come along and ripped up Boston while he'd been on his couch. The world had continued to turn and the business, apparently, had continued to boom.

Quite literally.

As Billy approached from the alley, a loud backfire of an exhaust froze him in place. So much for an empty garage. Along with the loud engine came the clanging of mechanics hard at work and sounds of voices. Billy swore under his breath. His original plan of walking in and out of the back was a heap of shit. He couldn't do anything without someone seeing him and his face was one that wouldn't go unnoticed. So, with his pulse in his ears, Billy yanked his hood over his head.

The sad disguise wouldn't get him far, but far wasn't what he needed. The back door to the garage led directly into Bones' office. It had been a security risk from the beginning, and the old man had left it locked up. But Bones wasn't around anymore. So Billy felt no guilt in ramming the bottom of his left boot into the wood.

The door swung wide and loud, little splinters flying. Moving fast, he was inside and bolting towards the wall safe. His side may have been pounding and heart was racing from fatigue, but he forced himself to move fast. As he'd predicted, no one was sitting in the dark room. It wasn't a pleasant place to hang around in, honestly. It reeked, for one. And it was full of junk. But someone had been in there, papers littering the desk like they were trying to sort through Bones' records.

Billy didn't stick around to investigate. He went to the safe and played with the combination, the numbers memorized by heart. For years he'd known the secret string of numerals, but Bones' wrath hadn't been worth a temporary payday. Now that his father wasn't around, however, Billy wondered why he hadn't robbed the fat bastard sooner. Killing him had been easy; robbing him would have been more so.

"HEY!" Someone shouted and Billy flinched for a microsecond, ripping open the safe in perfect time. And for a moment, he missed his old man…because right inside the safe, loaded and primed, was a shining desert eagle. God bless Bones. The gun was in his hand in a heartbeat and Billy ripped around with it held high.

"Jesus!" Thomas was one of the older men in Bones' employ, his hair graying around his crown and ears. In a dirty wife beater and jeans, his hands were busy with a crowbar and nothing else, defenseless against the firepower in Billy's palm. "Don't shoot buddy. Just take it!"

Billy snorted at Thomas' terrified eyes. The guy was probably about to shit himself, the crowbar shaking in his hand. Tugging back on his hood, Billy revealed his face and lowered the gun.

"That's the idea."

At first, the mechanic's expression slackened like his mind had been wiped clean. Then, slowly, his eyes widened and his mouth curled into a smile.

"Well fuck me...Billy fuckin' Darley." Thomas shook his head and dropped the crowbar on Bones' desk. "You're supposed ta be a dead man." Billy allowed a little of a grin to cross his lips.

"Devil had his hands full." They stood still for a moment and eventually Thomas nodded.

"Bones wasn't so lucky." Billy let a full breath fill and leave his lungs before he replied.

"What can I say, my aim's pretty good."

The older man didn't even look shocked. After a few moments, he blinked and nodded a second time.

"We all figured that's what happened." Billy raised his head, ready for the judgment to be laid on him. He was either a murderer or a hero. With his father's men, he had no idea how the coin would fall. And his life hung in the balance. "Your old man was an asshole."

The weight that came off Billy's shoulders nearly made him wobble on his feet. Thomas grinned at what was, no doubt, a shocked rise in Billy's brows.

"Best change in management we've had in a while, kid." The older man circled Bones' desk and plopped into the chair, sighing as he waved to the papers. "The fellas promoted me ta keep shit runnin'…cuz even though ya Dad was dead and you were fuckin' missin', customers kept bringin' in cars." Billy relaxed at the story, sliding the gun into the back of his jeans. Thomas fiddled with some of the papers and snorted angrily. "Place is a fuckin' mess. No real books anywhere."

"Bones didn't like writin' down his business." Billy added in, glancing at the stacks of cash inside the safe. Clearly no one knew about Bones' distrust of banks. Thomas sighed and shook his head.

"Well I tell ya what, son, after two weeks of sortin' through this shit hole, I wanted ta kill the bastard m'self."

Suddenly, Billy was reminded why he'd liked Thomas.

With a smile, he leant against the wall, careful to avoid his elbow and side. Despite Pete's best work, his arm was a mangled mess. He'd never be strong on his right again, but hell if anyone was going to notice that.

"So you're gonna run this place?" It wasn't really a challenge, but Thomas rose from the chair like he'd taken it that way. Almost immediately, the older man had his hands up, opening his palms in a subtle surrender.

"Not with ya back, Billy. This place is yours far as I'm concerned." He lowered his hands and shook his head. "Not lookin' ta fight ya for what's yours, ya know?"

Billy smiled wider and a stood up straight. Maybe his fear of competition had been an irrational one. Most of the men working for Bones were simple mechanics, looking to make enough money to pay the rent and buy a six-pack on the weekends. They weren't interested in the guns or drugs, really. There were a couple of guys that had known about Bones' extracurricular dealings, but not many. And Bones had never let anyone beside Billy get directly involved.

"That's good ta hear, Tommy." Billy kept his voice low, trying to hide the relief that was allowing him to breathe easy. "But I ain't interested in sittin' behind a desk." Turning back to the safe, he pulled out the bag that he'd stuffed in his hoodie and started piling cash inside. Thomas watched but didn't move to see, which made Billy like him even more. When he'd packed all the money, he picked a couple of smaller guns and a few boxes of ammunition, thankful Bones hadn't been running low. "I'll be checkin' in, but for now, you're my guy."

Thomas puffed up his chest and nodded, crossing his arms with pride.

"You got it, Billy." The safe was closed and locked, once again sunken into the wall. Then Billy crossed the room to stand in front of Thomas for the first time. Even though he was much younger, and now much thinner than the mechanic, Billy stood a few inches above him.

"The cops been a problem?" He asked. Thomas shrugged.

"Not really. I think they're startin' ta believe the rumors that ya dead." Billy bit back another smile. The less heat the better, and dead men were downright cold.

"Good. Keep it that way. 'Til I come back…" Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a single stack. One thousand dollars. Pressing it into Thomas's chest, Billy smirked. "…here's a raise."

Then he left. Without another word, Billy lifted his hood and ducked out the backdoor, walking briskly through the lot until he was inside Bodie's car. He didn't pause or even respond to Thomas's words of thanks. Billy took as little time as possible getting back to his apartment.

* * *

He'd been gone only twenty minutes. And more than half of that had been driving time. But when Billy slunk back into the dark shadowy hallways of his building, he felt like he'd been gone for much longer. Seconds had weighed on him like hours, minutes felt like days. The comfort of home and a locked door meant more to him than he'd ever imagined.

And Mary.

She was all he'd been able to think about on his way back. She would be waiting for him, pacing around like a cat in a cage. In a way, it was nice to know someone was anticipating his return. Before it had only been him and Joey. Now it was Mary. Just Mary.

God, he was in uncharted waters with her. A relationship. Whether he wanted to admit it aloud or not, Billy was in a relationship with someone other than Jack Daniels. It wasn't defined, or traditional, but it was more real than any other half-assed commitment he'd made to a woman. However, that wasn't saying much. The last time he'd committed to one woman, he'd lasted a week.

One. Week.

Then he'd gone back to his old tricks: cheating, lying, etc. And it hadn't bothered him. Women had been interchangeable. But that had been before. Before he'd been shot three times and left for dead. Before he'd heard the tears of a stranger for his sake. Before he'd looked up into a woman's eyes as he slowly died.

Mary wasn't just a woman. Not to Billy. She was the woman. As fucking corny as it sounded, even to him, she had been his anchor to life. She'd held him tight and reeled him back as death had tried to drag him down. Her voice had been his only guide back and he'd followed it.

Then she'd healed him. Quite literally. Mary had dressed his wounds, fed him, and –awkwardly enough– bathed him. She was fucking saint. But she was **his** fucking saint.

Walking through the front door of his apartment, Billy had a tangible need. It wasn't a feeling in his chest or some random tingling under his skin. He craved Mary in a way he'd never before. Part of it was from the feeling of victory flooding his veins. Like a caveman returning home with a fresh kill, Billy felt unbelievably male when he burst into the living room. He'd scored about seventy thousand dollars from his father's safe. That was enough to pay off Pete and move on with life, not to mention the income he'd collect from the garage. He was back in business.

But as much as he wanted to blame his mood on success, the other half of him knew it was so much more than that. Leaving the apartment had been dangerous. Hell, it was still dangerous. There were other enemies to worry about, threats he couldn't predict. He wasn't defenseless any longer, but his numbers were down. Big time. The fact that he had returned so quickly without running into any trouble was downright lucky. And Billy wanted to enjoy that luck tonight.

"Mary." He looked around the dark apartment as he tossed the bag and discarded his hoodie, forgetting the money for the moment. "Hey." A lone light was on in his tiny kitchen and Billy ducked inside, relieved to see her standing at the sink, her hair flowing down her shoulders. "I'm back."

When she didn't turn around, he moved closer until he could see her face. She was staring down at her hands, her palms face-up and bright red.

"I was cleaning." Mary murmured in a trance as Billy frowned down at her raw hands. "I guess I thought it would make waiting easier." That made sense to him. He even found it a little endearing, even though it was strange.

"Ya know I hate it when ya act like my housekeeper." He replied with an attempt at lightening the mood. But her face remained flat and her eyes unseeing as she stared down into the sink.

"Then I thought…what if you never came back?" Her words sent a shiver down his spine. Despite the ease of his trip, Billy felt the fear of leaving all over again.

"Hey—"

"Is it even under your name, this place?" She asked the question like she knew the answer. And Billy sighed softly in reply. "I didn't think so."

"I'm fine, Mary." He took her shoulders into his hands and her head slowly turned. "I told ya I'd be fine."

"How long were you gone?" She whispered. Mary wasn't looking at his face, but the hand with three fingers that rested on her shoulder. Billy fought the urge to yank it back and hide it from sight.

"Twenty minutes, give or take." He spoke gently, rubbing his thumbs back and forth on her shoulders. Mary nodded like she was only half listening, her gaze slipping down his arm to his elbow.

"Did you dress your incisions?" Lowering his hands, he sighed.

"No." He had expected her to be happy to see him, or at least uplifted by his return. But her tone was clinical, numb. Mary nodded and turned away, making Billy's chest squeeze with disappointment.

"Take off your shirt." He didn't fight the instruction, doing what he was told as she grabbed gauze and ointment off the countertop. When his t-shirt was tossed onto the table, Billy stood bare-chested as she grabbed scissors from a drawer.

"Everything went fine. I got the money. The shop is taken care of—"

"Arm." Billy rolled his eyes at Mary's short tone, lifting his arm so she could press the fresh dressing to his side.

"The cops think I'm dead, Mary. They aren't even askin' the boys at the shop about me anymore."

"Hold that, please." She replied. Billy held the gauze in place as she started taping it to his skin. When she went on in silence for a few more seconds, he ground his jaw in frustration and blurted his thoughts out loud.

"Ya know, I thought ya'd be a little more happy ta see me when I got back." Mary went still, her head hovering near his right peck. Then she quietly set the scissors and tape on the kitchen table. "You're actin' like you're mad I came back." He added.

Her eyes flashed a razor's shade of green.

"Don't be cruel." She snapped. "If you want to make me mad, that's a sure way to do it."

Billy swallowed. He'd regretted his words before they'd even left his lips, but he'd said them anyway. Lowering his eyes, he felt like he'd slithered back into his old skin, hurting without any consideration.

"When I heard you walk through that door…" Billy was surprised when Mary's hands grasped the sides of his face. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, but her tone was strong and steady. There was a steel resolve in Marianne, something he admired more than her beauty. "…I had to remind myself how to breathe again." She blinked and a wave of tears dripped from her jaw to her shirt.

"Hey…" He lifted a hand to wipe them away but she beat him to it, ducking her head to swipe her cheeks with a palm. Taking a deep breath, she seemed to gather herself before she faced him again.

"Those twenty minutes were the longest of my life." She whispered. "Because I didn't know how I'd be able to live with losing you."

Billy had no idea what to say, so he just kissed her. Her lips were salty and dry, but her mouth was soft and familiar. It was a chaste peck, but it made his gut swirl with feeling anyway. When they parted, Mary's glassy eyes met his and she gave a hushed sigh.

And then he said it. Without a moment's hesitation or contemplation, he murmured those powerful words for the first time.

_"I love you."_

* * *

**Real quick word of love to everyone who's left reviews. Thank you guys so much. :) Your kind words are what keep me going. Love all you readers! And love to Marianne! Thanks for inspiring this darlin.**


	4. First Time

Their first time started with the rain.

* * *

The rain had come down so hard the streets were nearly flooded, the water roaring up and around the tires as he'd driven to the store. It was that one month of the year where the rain was ruthless, soaking an already saturated city in more water everyday. But that night it had come out of nowhere, ruining their bi-weekly shopping trip.

Although, he didn't really know why he insisted on going; he always spent the entire time waiting inside the car. That was all he could do for now. People may have forgotten about him, but walking around in a grocery store full of cameras wasn't a grand idea. Neither was sitting in a parked car, but at least at night no one would notice him, alone in the dark. He just sat back in the shadows, waiting for Mary to appear from behind those automatic doors.

When she had wheeled the cart out that night, he leapt into that rain to help her shove all those bags into the trunk. It was only fair. He was the reason she had to make these trips in the middle of the night, all by herself. He was the reason they had to make so many trips to the store too. He was eating more, now that his body was on the mend and he was given the go-ahead to start using it again. And what a goddamn relief, on both fronts. No more soup and toast; Billy was back to full protein, pumping his body full of calories as he lifted to gain back his strength.

And Mary kept him stocked, that's for sure. He funded his needs, but she kept a healthy inventory. Loading the last bag into the trunk, he shook his head at the massive haul. It looked like they were filling a bomb shelter, not feeding him for a few days. Grinning, he wondered what the cashiers thought every night she showed up alone. You work in a grocery, you start to notice things…like a slender blonde buying enough food to drop an army.

As he closed the trunk, Billy looked up, watching Mary jog the cart back to a corral. Okay, so maybe stared was more the word. It had been a good week since he'd confessed his feelings for her. And boy had that night been an odd one. At first she'd laughed with relief, then cried with happiness, telling him she loved him too.

And then they'd made out like teenagers on the couch. Unfortunately, that was all he'd been able to do. Despite his cock's best intentions, he'd been exhausted from leaving the house, and he really hadn't wanted to disappoint. After a night of too many emotional proclamations —for his taste anyway— he didn't mind that it had ended with a Godfather marathon on TNT.

They hadn't exchanged those three big words since, but that didn't really matter with them. Unlike every other woman he'd ever known, Mary didn't search out a reaffirmation every time they parted. It was simple. He knew, and she knew.

Watching her run back to the car in the rain, those feelings filled his chest, warming him despite the damp hoodie on his skin.

It was one of those things that he'd always thought only happened in movies. One of those moments that didn't really happen in life. But there she was, his Marianne, water dripping from her long blonde hair, off the tip of her nose. No dramatic music, no slow motion. Just merciless rain and the splash of her feet meeting the ground as she ran.

He was walking around the car before he knew what he was doing, his feet conducting his brain. There was a moment of confusion on Mary's face as he advanced on her, then his hands were in her hair and the small of her back. From there, she melted into his touch, letting out a happy sigh when he kissed her. A little sound as he softly pressed his lips to hers.

Her mouth was sweet and cold and he took his time on her bottom lip before he teased with the tip of his tongue. Before long, water was running down the back of his shirt, giving him chills from two ends of the spectrum. Mary was holding onto his neck, accepting him and taking a little more. And somehow, her back ended up against the passenger-side window, his hips nestled against hers, their breath in sync, the impulses coursing between them.

All those weeks of restraint fell apart on him, right there. All those daydreams he'd secretly had while Mary was walking around in her work clothes, or when she was checking his wounds, bringing him soup when he'd been too weak to move. The old part of him thundered back into his veins, his hold consuming, his mouth wandering down Mary's throat.

"Billy." She had her fingers in his shaggy hair, tugging in a way that sent a delicious shiver through him. Looking up at her, both of them blinking back the rain, Billy knew he'd never love anyone like he loved her. "Take me home."

* * *

There's never just one first time. Everyone knows this. When feelings are involved, it doesn't matter if you've slept with a hundred women, or none at all, that first time with the woman you love is going to bring you to your knees.

It wasn't common for Billy to ever feel nervous. It wasn't unheard of, now that he knew the humbling effect of fatal injury and slow recovery; but he'd never felt that unease because of a woman.

Picking up women had been a game in his earlier days. Even though those days weren't far behind him at all, Billy felt like it had been ages since he'd casually slid his hands up a girl's skirt or teased the tips of his fingers over the hill of a woman's breast. Those days had been jaded with sex. He'd had so much of it nothing seemed to stick out in his mind. He didn't remember faces or skin color or cup size. It had all been mindless fucking without a single thought in his head. Despite the fact that he'd been very naked with women he'd barely known, he'd never been open.

As Mary stared up at him, their arms wrapped around each other, Billy felt more exposed than he had with the dozens he'd taken to bed. Fully clothed, he felt stripped to the bone with her. She'd seen him at his weakest; she'd shared his pain. For the first time in his life, Billy was afraid of something as simple as sex. Sleeping with Mary would change everything.

"Do you remember how we met?" Billy nodded his head as he held her close, kissing her lips, her neck, any part of her. As she spoke, Mary's fingers were playing in his hair, messing it as if she were lost in thought. But her eyes were closed, savoring each brush of his mouth.

"Ya needed a jump." He murmured. And he'd given it to her, along with a healthy dose of his bad boy charm, taking her number with a smile that promised more than just a trusty pair of jumper cables. Mary grinned and wrapped her arms a little tighter around his head, coming up onto her tiptoes to face him nose to nose.

"No, that was the second time." Billy stopped. Staring into her green eyes, he saw that she wasn't playing with him. Wracking his memory, his brow folded in a confused frown.

"What?" Mary bit her bottom lip and laughed, her eyes darting away.

"I figured you wouldn't remember."

"Wait." Releasing his lock around her body, Billy freed a hand to touch her face and bring her eyes to his again. "Tell me." She shrugged, rubbing her cheek in his palm.

"You were drunk." He could feel her smiling and it brought a grin to his own lips.

"I was drunk once or twice." She cocked an eyebrow and he chuckled evilly, making her giggle in his arms.

"You were drunk and laughing about something, smoking like a chimney down the hallway." Shaking his head, Billy lifted her face and kissed her once, another time…the seconds clicked by as his mouth lingered. When she leaned away, he kept his eyes closed. "You nearly knocked me over but you caught my wrist…" Her slender fingers circled his wrist and she gripped it gently. "And when you caught me, the way you looked at me…it took my breath away."

He stole her mouth again, this time with added heat. Hands found their way to skin and words became gasps. Billy wondered how he'd managed to keep himself off Mary as long as he had. Their chemistry was electric, sending jolts from his fingertips all over his body. His skin was alive, his stomach and thighs shivering with sensation.

"God, like that." Mary's moan made him smile against her lips. "You're incredible, Billy Darley."

Grasping her head between his palms, Billy pulled away to stare into her eyes. She was a simple girl, beautiful, but not like the painted, easy girls he'd chased after for most of his life. He didn't remember her in that hallway, because he hadn't seen her. Really seen her. Now, she was all he saw. She was beyond compare in his eyes.

"Not yet, I'm not." Mary blinked in confusion and Billy grinned. Then he moved so quickly she didn't have a moment to react. Ducking down, he wrapped his arms around her back and knees, sweeping her off the floor. She let out a squeak of surprise as he carried her down the hallway; and before they reached his bedroom, she was giggling like a schoolgirl. When he sat her gently on the bed, Billy felt the pull of his old habits.

He imagined stripping off her pants, parting her legs with his thighs as his jeans were barely unzipped to free his cock. He imagined their frantic moaning, the sounds of the mattress squeaking beneath them as they rocked senselessly until there wasn't a pace fast enough. He saw those things clear as day. Saw Mary biting her lip, tossing her head back onto his pillows as he thrust over and over again. Felt the sweat on his chest, the burn in his arms, the tingle in his shaft.

Shaking his head, Billy shattered those images and bent down, taking Mary's shoes off with soft tugs. Next came her socks, which made her giggle again when they were tossed over his shoulder. When her feet were bare, he slid a hand up her ankle, reaching under the legs of her jeans.

"I love watching you put on those heels ya wear." He murmured, his fingertips tickling her calves. "They make your legs flex…" Mary pointed her toes to mimic the position and her jeans didn't last much longer after that. With a lift of her hips and a few rough yanks, Billy threw them aside with the rest and smoothed his palms up the length of her legs. "And those skirts." He kissed her knees while his hands roamed north, following the graceful curve up the sides of her thighs. She was strong but soft, supple flesh married with toned muscle. His lips tasted a trail from her right knee to her inner thigh, his skin shuddering when she let out a soft gasp.

"I'd get hard, seeing ya in that outfit." Billy continued, fanning his hands out over her hips, his fingertips teasing the waistline of her panties. Mary's cheeks had started to turn a little pink, her mouth opened slightly as she watched him. "I wanted to undress ya like this, when ya got back."

"Undress me, huh?" She opened her legs a little and Billy had to grind his teeth to keep from letting out a grunt. Her underwear was classic, bikini cut, and black. Simple and yet his cock gave an undeniable kick against his jeans.

"Yeah." He murmured, his chest parting her knees now as he leaned on the mattress. Mary played with his hair, shrugging her shoulders.

"Nothing else?"

The guttural growl from his throat was the only response he could manage before his lips snagged hers in a rough, sinful kiss. And as he licked his way into her mouth, his hands lifted the shirt from her stomach.

In seconds, that shirt and the bra beneath were tossed away, leaving only her panties as he kissed a trail from her lips to her throat from one breast to the other, Mary letting out little sounds the whole way. He memorized every inch of her, licked and nibbled until she was writhing under his touch. Then he slipped the panties from her legs. When they snapped free of her feet, Billy stood up from the floor, lifting her naked hips back on the mattress until he was on his belly between her knees.

There he paused. Arms locked around her legs, hands stroking the satin-like plane of her stomach, Billy stopped and just looked. He watched his three-fingered hand on the miles of her flawless skin. His disfigured body worshiping hers.

Her hand tapped his chin, snapping him out of his stare.

"Quit."

Billy blinked, catching her slender hand in his battered one. And for a moment, he wondered if he deserved to touch her at all.

"Billy." Mary brought him back a second time, her voice softer, knowing. Then she lowered their hands and he let out a groan. "Touch me."

His fingers explored the warm, silky core of her, drawing moans from both their mouths until Billy busied his on her lower stomach. Mary moved for him, rocked into his stroking and kissing as he trailed down her hip. He entered her slowly, his finger gripped tight by the white-hot heat of her body, swirling his tongue in rhythm with the thrusts of his hand. And when she came, he held her tight to his mouth, relishing the cries of bliss that filled his ears.

He did that twice before she'd had enough and rolled him over onto his back. Panting, she pulled his shirt over his head and yanked the pants off his legs. Her urgency made him smile. Then laugh. And when she glanced up at him, Mary cocked an eyebrow.

"What's so funny?" She murmured, stroking the hard bulge under his boxers. Letting out a groan, he thrust his hips up into her touch, his laughing temporarily forgotten.

"Ya want me almost as bad as I want you." He purred. Mary smiled, freeing him from his boxers with a gentle hand. Swinging a leg over his hips, she straddled him and leaned down to kiss his mouth.

"Almost."

She took him slow the first time. The pleasure built gradually, growing from a steady buzz to a roaring lust. They kissed, they whispered, they moaned, moving gently beneath the sheets. Billy shuddered with pleasure when he came, and Mary held his head to her chest, cradling him as he groaned.

The second time was a race. A race that started with Billy flipping Mary onto her back, thrusting between her legs with a depth that made her gasp. That second time, he grunted with exertion, his arms flexed and shaking from the weight of his body. But none of that stopped him. Swinging his hips, he found the rhythm that brought Mary apart two times, making her incoherent as she scratched at his back and butt. He drove until they were both sweaty and gasping for air, shaking in each other's arms. Billy snarled when he came that second time, hissing through his teeth as the climax cranked through his body, seizing his thighs and balls.

When he rolled onto his back, collapsing at Mary's side, she crawled closer to rest on his chest. Breathing, quiet, content. They simply held each other in the aftermath, their hearts slowing to a calm beat. After a while, Billy whispered into Mary's ear, wondering if she was still awake or fast asleep.

"I've never slept with anyone before." Her head lifted slowly, a sleepy frown on her brow. He gave her a crooked grin and clarified. "Afterwards. Ya know, slept with anyone." With a grin, Mary rolled her eyes.

"You kicked them all out?"

"Yeah." Billy watched her smile fade as he stared up at her. "Sex was always about getting off. They'd finish, I'd finish. Then they'd leave."

Mary nodded slowly, looking away.

"I can go—"

Billy tugged her back down for a kiss to cut off the sentence. And he kept her there for quite some time, tasting and teasing, before he broke the contact. Her big smile told him his point had been achieved.

"I might not remember that first meeting in the hallway, but I remember what ya said to me when I was dying." Mary tucked into the space between his collarbone and jaw, stretching an arm over his chest.

"What did I say?"

Hugging her close, Billy looked up at the ceiling, recalling her frantic voice in the darkness.

"'Just stay with me.'" Tilting his face to kiss her forehead, Billy closed his eyes. "Just stay with me, Marianne."

* * *

AN: First, I just want to thank everyone who's left me love on this or any of my stories. I know I've been really absent lately, but I promise you I'm not going anywhere. Your patience is greatly appreciated! And I can't tell you how grateful I am for the support. BILLY WILL RETURN.

To my soulmate: rub you gurlll ;)


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